Snowfall
by sincerelymendacious
Summary: One of Morry's classmates joins him for lunch.


"May I sit here?"

Morceau Oleander jumped, startled, although there had been nothing threatening in either the words or the way they had been spoken, softly and shyly. He jumped because he hadn't heard her walk up (if she had walked up at all- Milla Vodello was one of the top levitators in their class). Normally, being snuck up on like that would have him angrily yelling at whoever dared to try to catch him off his guard, but his bluster was absent in this case. He knew that Milla had not snuck up on him on purpose, and he nodded in answer to her question. She smiled and thanked him politely as she set her tray down and sat in the booth across from him.

They exchanged a bit of small talk regarding the food ("better than M.R.E.'s") and their class schedules before falling into a silence that Morry could not either call comfortable or uncomfortable. It wasn't that he minded her sitting there-he liked Milla, she was sweet and kind, and she was as hard-working and dedicated as he was. But she was also tall, and pretty, and well-liked by their peers, and he had a scraggly mustache and his feet dangled over the floor as he sat in the booth. He got on with most of the new recruits okay, but he suspected that some of them made fun of him behind his back. He wasn't intimated by her, but he was aware that they were an odd pair, and he wasn't sure what her motive was in sitting with him on this day.

The not-awkward-but-not-comfortable silence continued as they both ate their lunches, her's a salad and a burger and fries for him (the quality of the meat was decent but nothing spectacular). A field manual lay open next to his tray; he'd been studying it as he ate before Milla had joined him. He went back to it, but found that staying focused on the dry material was more difficult now that there was someone sitting across from him, even if that someone wasn't actually doing anything to bother him. The booth that they were seated at was right next to a large window, and she was looking out of it, her chin in her hand and her salad half-eaten and abandoned. Outside, the snow was falling fast and thin, blanketing the ground in white. Maybe that was why she had sat here- she had wanted a view of the snow, but hadn't wanted to sit by herself.

More minutes passed, and Morry estimated that he had been stuck on the same paragraph for at least five minutes. He'd begin reading, get through the first sentence, and then, at some point between the second and third sentences, his eyes would flicker to her, seemingly of their own accord. He'd glance at her for a second, and then he would force himself to resume studying, but then he would glance at her again and after that his place would be lost and he'd have to start over. Morry wasn't usually so easily distracted, and he honestly wasn't sure why he was having such difficulty now. In high school he'd been able to study in louder cafeterias than this one, and among less pleasant and louder company. Was it because Milla was a pretty girl? He admittedly did not have all that much experience with girls, especially ones who looked like they wouldn't be out of place on a magazine cover, but he didn't really think that was why he was having trouble concentrating. Milla was beautiful, with her elegant figure, long black hair, and attractive face, but Morry had little interest in romance at this time. After being rejected by all branches of the military, the Psychonauts were his last shot at making something of himself, and he was throwing all of his time and energy into ensuring his success at this organization.

Besides, he had a feeling that his distraction was being caused more by curiosity than any attraction he may have felt towards her. Milla's expression at this moment was a mystery, her gaze fixed on the scenery outside. A quick look out the window revealed a group of agents huddled together, smoking (among them that German telepath who kept trying to break past Morry's mental shields and the Vice Head's lazy son), but she appeared to be looking through them. It was the snow itself that had her attention, and she was watching it with a far-away expression on her face, her bright green eyes dreamy, and maybe a little wistful. Morry recalled then that Milla was from Brazil- was this the first time that she had seen snow?

"Oh no, it isn't," Milla said suddenly, turning away from the window. "It snows every year in my home town."

Morry's mouth dropped open, and he felt his face heat up in embarrassment. Upon seeing this, Milla's cheeks flushed as well, having realized that the question she had just answered had not been spoken out loud. "I'm so sorry, darling," she said. "I didn't mean to…I thought you said that out loud. I sometimes pick up on other people's thoughts when I'm not paying attention," she confessed, smiling apologetically.

Morry rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and explained that he occasionally projected his own thoughts into other people's heads. Had this incident occurred with anybody else, he would never have admitted to such a thing. But there was something different about Milla Vodello, her warmth and understanding set her apart from everybody else, and he couldn't let her think that she had offended him accidentally.

They argued a little over who was to blame for the incident before realizing that it wasn't a big deal and laughing it off. "Where are you from?" Morry asked once their laughter had subsided.

"São Joaquim," She answered. "It's in the mountains."

Morry made a mental note to look up where that was later. "Didn't know that it snowed in Brazil."

"It doesn't in most places," she replied. She fiddled with her hair, braided loosely and hanging over her shoulder, as she spoke. "It's usually not a whole lot, not as much as this, but enough to cover the ground." The volume of her voice had decreased to a near-whisper, and the far-away look had come back to her eyes. She turned away, looking back out at the falling snow.

He wanted to ask her more, but suddenly felt a deep pain enter his mind. He put his shields up in response and wondered why speaking about her home town had made Milla so sad so suddenly. Rumor around the agency was that Milla had been in rough shape when the Psychonauts had collected her from a mental institution, but nobody knew what the exact nature of her trauma had been. Although it was very tempting to ask her more, Morry knew that this would be awfully rude on his part (his mother had always stressed how important it was to respect the privacy of others). He changed the subject to that of his own hometown, where at this time it was also snowing. She listened eagerly, relieved to have a distraction from her own thoughts, and genuinely entertained by his stories about his father's animals.

In the end, they wound up talking for an hour, jumping from topic to topic. The conversation was light, but engaging enough, and Morry forgot all about the field manuel (though he did finish his lunch, his mother would never approve of him missing a meal). It was alright- Morry had been recruited about four months ago, but this was the first time he could say that he felt like he had made a friend. He still didn't know why she had chosen him of all people to sit with, and he wasn't enlightened any further the next day when she sat across from him again, nor the following Friday when she invited him out to Karaoke with a group of their classmates.

But hey, he wasn't going to complain. If Milla Vodello wanted to be his friend, who was he to say no?


End file.
